I’m falling for this girl.
“Say it,” I dare myself. I swore off real relationships after Sammy. I didn’t just swear off any romantic notion of love—I had stopped believing it existed altogether. “Say it.” The words come from me a little louder, a little bolder. “I’m in love.” The words come out so fast they sound like gibberish. “I’m in love.” There, I said it like I mean it, and I do. “I’m in love with Cassidy Clayton.” A dull laugh ripples through me. “Shit.” A delirious laugh sputters from my throat. “I love Cassidy Clayton!” I shout, thumping my palm over the horn with every single word, expelling an entire flock of sparrows from the pine tree above. “That’s right.” I roll down the window and lean out into the frozen air. “I’m in love with the girl!” I laugh like a lunatic all the way home.
No sooner do I shower and snap the towel off the hook than a sweet little knock emits from the front door. Buddy lets out a few deep growls, and I move it.
“Whoa.” My heart thumps because I’m hoping to God it’s Cassidy. A part of me wants to burst into fucking song, letting her know how I feel about her, but I know that would only spook her—hell, the thought of me trying to carry a tune spooks me.
I reach for my sweats then relent, deciding to cut out the middleman a little early. I’m pretty sure Cassidy won’t mind too much that I’m in nothing more than a towel. According to her enthusiasm, she prefers me in less.
The polite, distinctly female, or dude with no balls, knocking commences again as I try to wrangle Buddy to his room, but he sits his hairy butt down and turns into an eighty-pound paperweight.
More knocking.
“Coming.” I stride to the door. The least I can do is let her know I’m subduing my furry little friend. For a second, I think of peering through the peephole first, but she belts out another polite knock so I opt to open it a crack instead.
Her hot pink running shoes catch my eyes first. “Darlin,’ I knew you couldn’t get enough of—” Shit. Everything in me freezes. There’s a girl at the door all right, but it’s not sweet, perky, beautiful Cassidy—it’s Sammy. It looks like I picked a fine time to try out my Tennessee accent.
“Oh gosh!” she gasps, running her gaze up and down my body, and instinctively, I close the door a few inches. Sammy has seen me in the buff plenty of times. I’m not trying to be coy or shy. I just don’t want to give her the wrong impression—whatever that might be. “I’m so sorry!” She giggles through her words because obviously she’s not. “I was just down a few houses at a friend’s, and she mentioned there was a dog here that her little poodle can’t get enough of. Once she described him, I just had to see if it was Buddy.”
On cue, Buddy dives his nose through the crack, and Sammy bends over, screaming with delight as if she’s just been reunited with a long-lost child.
“Come in,” I offer without the proper enthusiasm. “Shut the door behind you, so he doesn’t get out. He’s quite the escape artist these days. I’ll be back in a second.” I head over to my room and entomb myself inside.
Crap. All week Sammy has been appearing from out of nowhere, and all of those places have been relegated to campus up until now—offering to buy me coffee, chatting about the fabulous weather, current events—she even invited me to a play next weekend. I couldn’t make up excuses fast enough, and as quick as I doled them out, she had a new reason for me to make one up. I take a breath before throwing on my sweats and heading back out there.
Sammy and Buddy are cuddled up on the couch like long-lost friends, and they are.
“God”—she coos into his fur—“I haven’t seen this sweet angel in years!” She pulls back, looks into his big brown eyes, and scratches behind his ears. “I remember you when you were just an itty bitty puppy!”
“You remember that?” I flop down on the chair opposite her and pull on my socks.
“Are you kidding? My favorite part about visiting your family was this guy right here. No offense to your parents. They’re pretty great, too.” Her features dull out as she looks to the floor. “I miss a lot of things. Anyway, I just thought I’d drop by and say hello—make sure you’re treating my dog okay.” She makes a face. Sammy used to claim ownership of Buddy way back in the day. When I broke things off for good, she said she wanted visitation rights, and even though she was partly teasing, I knew deep down she wasn’t.
She glances over at me, examining my clothes for a moment. “Hot date, huh?” She shrugs. “Looks like we’ve got the same plans.”
Crap. Here we go. Any second now, I expect her to call in for a pizza, expecting an invitation for that extended stay she’s looking for.
My phone buzzes over the table, and I pick it up. It’s a text from Owen.